Cover Stories
by TombCrank the Crafty
Summary: Because the SGC needs a little work on their covers and “Deep Space Radar Telemetry” just doesn’t cut it sometimes.  A onesided dialogue fic.


Author: TombCrank the Crafty

Summary: Because the SGC needs a little work on their covers and "Deep Space Radar Telemetry" just doesn't cut it sometimes. A one-sided dialogue fic.

Disclaimer: I do not own SG1. However, Maddy and Devin Tucker are mine.

AN: Beware of Maddy's dirty mouth.

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"Let me get this straight, oh brother of mine. You, a highly trained United States Air Force Major, broke three ribs, an arm, and received general lacerations to the face in a _bar fight_? Was this bar filled with ninjas, or just NFL linebackers?"

"Oh, don't even _think_ about telling me it's classified, Devin. You can take your secrecy act and shove it up your superior's ass."

"No, I just randomly decided to grow a sense of vulgarity in my spare time and don't try to change the subject, mister. I want the truth, the whole truth, and not more than what will keep it from technically being a lie."

" 'If I told you, I'd have to kill you'? Who do you think you are, James Bond?"

"That was a rhetorical question, but I'm glad you're keeping the delusions of grandeur down without my help."

"Well, I love you too."

"Seriously, Devin, what the fuck happened and whose face do I need to break? No one messes with my big brother and lives to limp away."

"Meh. Who cares if they most likely weigh 200 pounds more than me in pure muscle? So what if I've never received any sort of formal martial arts training? I can still wield a mean  
set of steel knuckles."

"No, I don't mean brass knuckles. If you send enough guys to the Emergency Room, the wait-staff upgrades you. What can I say, it's a perk of the job."

"_You_ of all people should not lecture _me_ about my choice in professions, military-boy. Bouncer / Bartender is a perfectly respectable occupation, even though I work for a bit of a dive."

"Don't 'oh, Maddy' me, Devin. I'm not three anymore."

"You think I don't worry about you? Devin, you never call and when you do, it's always from the infirmary on base. It's enough to drive a girl mad."

"Take some time off once you're stable, bro. Come home. I mean, there's not much you can do until those ribs of yours heal. I promise, I'll even let you beat up the boys who are  
looking at me funny at the bar."

"Honest."

"It's amazing. You'd think that after the last few guys who copped a feel turned up at the hospital, the rest would take a hint."

"You know, 'me kill them' doesn't count as an answer. And from a purely professional standpoint, I'd love to learn how you'd pound them to a bloody pulp when you can't get off the couch."

"So that's a yes?"

"I'll come up to Colorado Springs next weekend. Noon on Saturday at Vic's Coffeehouse. Oh, and don't forget your pain meds, bucko. You're going to need 'em."

"Good. Don't think you're getting out of telling me what happened, secrecy acts be damned. I'm your sister and if you don't tell me what happened, I am not to be held responsible for my actions. Am I making myself clear?"

"Love you too."

_Click._

FIN.

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Author's Notes: I make no apologies for this piece of fluff. Note the reference to Dietcokechic's amazing Barista series. I wrote this… over a year ago. It's been floating around my notebooks for a while. I figured it was high time I shared it.

Will you ever see (_hear?_) Devin's side of the conversation? Probably not. I wrote this little ficlet as a writing exercise, to see if I could manage one speaker and still carry a plot (as minimal as it is). I feel I managed to convey Maddy and Devin Tucker well enough. Let me know what you think of my "grand experiment".

… hey, I suddenly realized, this is my first uploaded SG1 story! Neat. (Mind you, I have quite a few unfinished pieces floating in the deep abyss of my hard drive. Those poor, abandoned fics.)

-TombCrank the Crafty


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